Best Friends With the Billionaire(2)

Cassie sighed as she reached for the beef ribs. “I thought being away from them for so long would’ve made a difference. You know—absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. But it seems the opposite’s happened. I just don’t get along with Mom and Lillian. I see that clearly now, and they’re driving me up the wall with their obsession with this wedding. Honestly, this afternoon we spent two hours discussing wedding favors and how Lillian’s hand-sewn, hand-stamped linen bags were so unique and ‘it.’ I made the mistake of asking if it wouldn’t be easier buying ready-made bags, and I was told I didn’t know anything about weddings.”

Kirk made a sympathetic noise. “Can’t you do something else when they’re doing all this wedding stuff that drives you nuts?”

“I’m trying to fit in, don’t you see? I’m making a last ditch attempt to be a good daughter and sister.” And if she did, maybe her mom and sister would be more accepting of her. She used to think she didn’t care what they thought of her, but when Lillian had asked her to be a bridesmaid, she’d been touched to the core. She wanted to be part of the family more than ever before; she wanted their love and approval. “But I’m afraid if I have to spend all my days and nights with them for the next two weeks, I won’t be able to contain myself. I’m going to explode and say something unforgiveable. They’ll hate me, and that will ruin everything.”

The thought depressed her. She scooped up a mouthful of rice to distract herself.

Kirk set his bowl down, and his eyes gleamed. “I have a solution to your problem. Move in with me.”

She inhaled in surprise, causing a few grains of rice to stick in her throat. She choked and spluttered, eyes watering as she groped for her napkin. Oh great, she must look wonderful spitting out rice in front of Kirk.

He poured her a glass of water, pushed it to her, and waited until she’d regained control.

“I-I’m sorry.” She wheezed. “Did you say I should move in with you?”

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, looking suave and nonchalant as she wiped up the last of the rice from her chin.

“Yes, why not? I have room in my house, and your family is driving you up the wall. It seems like a sensible solution to me.”

Cassie took another deep gulp of water to give herself time to think. On the surface, it did seem like a sensible solution. She was clearly irritating her mom and sister, and vice versa. She and Kirk were friends, and they’d lived in a share house before, so they knew each other’s foibles. And it was only for two weeks. And it would give them more time together…

Her heart contracted at the last thought. More time together for what? To have a repeat of what happened the last time she’d been alone with Kirk? No, she couldn’t go through that kind of hurt again.

She licked away a grain of rice that had stuck to her finger. “That’s very generous of you, Kirk,” she said steadily. “But I, um, think I should stay at my mom’s place.”

Kirk rested his elbows on the table. His eyes, gray-blue like a mountain stream, were bright and clear on her, as if he could read her thoughts. God, she hoped not.

“You know I’ve moved,” he said, the casualness of his tone belying the underlying meaning of his words.

Her stomach seized in response. She wiped her fingers on the napkin slowly, carefully. “No, I didn’t know.”

“I bought a place in Pacific Heights. Nothing fancy, just a small house.”

In Pacific Heights “just a small house” could mean a multimillion-dollar estate, but she guessed everything was relative to a man as rich as Kirk. And nothing could be as fancy as the great big mansion he’d last lived in. With Alison. His late wife.

Soon after Kirk had married Alison—impossibly gorgeous Alison with her water nymph figure and mermaid hair—Cassie had flown to Sydney for a long vacation that had extended into six years. So she hadn’t had much opportunity to visit Kirk in his marital abode, which had been her plan. On her brief visits back, she’d met him on neutral territory—bars or restaurants—and always in company. Only after Alison died two years ago had she called in at his mansion, and what happened then had made her want to stay away from San Francisco for a long, long time, until her sister’s unexpected invitation to be her bridesmaid.

Cassie forced herself to look at Kirk—to look at him with all the compassion she felt for him and none of the hurt she’d hidden for so long.

“It must have been hard for you to move,” she said softly. “I know how much Alison meant to you.”

A memory from his wedding day flashed through her head. Kirk dancing with his new wife, a gold ring glinting on his finger, a smile on his lips. A smile meant only for his wife, blocking everyone else out. Including Cassie. She’d never forget that moment when her heart had frozen over, when she knew that that smile would never be meant for her. When she finally acknowledged she was in love with her best friend.

It was all in the past now. She’d wept many useless tears, but she’d learned to live with the feeling of rejection. She’d put on her big girl panties and moved on, literally and figuratively. Moved to Sydney, moved on with her life, packed all her feelings for Kirk in a trunk labeled “experience” and stowed it away in the basement of her heart.

“I have moved on.” Kirk sounded abrupt. When she glanced up, she was surprised to find his expression stiff and guarded. “I’m not the grieving widower anymore.”

“So I’ve heard.”

She’d learned how he’d “moved on” through their mutual friends. Six months after Alison’s death, Kirk had started dating again and apparently gone at it with a vengeance, a different woman on his arm for each month of the year. Cassie had seen some of the photos on social media, posted there by friends, not Kirk. The women might change each month, but they were always the same—curvaceously beautiful, confident, groomed, successful. They were models, TV presenters, entrepreneurs. None of them were building project managers like Cassie; none of them wore hardhats, fluorescent vests, and steel-capped boots as part of their work attire.

Kirk lifted his eyebrows. “What exactly have you heard?”

She played with her chopsticks. “Oh, that you’re dating again. A lot.”

He rubbed his jaw, long fingers scraping against the faint shadow of stubble. “And what do you think of that?”

She shrugged. “Does it matter what I think?”

“Yes.” He leaned across the table, palms flat against the white cloth. “I care what my best friend thinks.”

Best friend. Sparks of pleasure spread through her, followed by a faint tremble, a tremor of wanting. If I’m your best friend, how come you’ve never thought of dating me? The plea flashed through her before she could help it. Damn it, she was not going to go down that line of thought. She wasn’t in love with Kirk anymore. What she’d felt had only been a crush because no heterosexual girl could be immune to his hotness.

She forced herself to grin at him. “Are we still best friends?”

“Of course.”

He stretched an arm across the table and rested his fingers on her hand. His touch triggered a quiver of pleasure in her hand, which quickly spread through her body. Oh boy. She wanted this moment to go on forever. Kirk had never been a touchy-feely guy, so this was definitely out of the ordinary. He seemed to think so, too, because after a few seconds he withdrew his hand, leaving a warm spot tingling on the back of her hand.

“We’ve kind of drifted apart these past few years,” he said.

Oh, so he’d noticed that. But he probably didn’t know it had been a deliberate move on her part. Deliberate to help her heal.

“It’s your fault,” she said lightly. “You refuse to join Facebook, so you miss out on all my brilliant status updates.”

“Facebook isn’t real.” Kirk waved his hand. “You only see the airbrushed moments your so-called friends want you to see.”

True enough. No one checking her Facebook timeline would have a clue of what she’d gone through.

“Well, as your IRL friend, I’m here for the next two weeks, and if my mom continues to starve me, I’ll be insisting we meet for dinner again soon.”

He nodded. The waiter came by to check on them, and when he was gone, Kirk said, “Are you ever planning on moving back here?”

“Nope,” she replied more tersely than she’d meant to.

“Is life down under so much better?”

Cassie hesitated. “I love my job there.” Initially she’d flown to Sydney to visit her Aunt Betsy, but then her husband Mario had offered Cassie a job in his construction business, and she’d stayed and thrived. “I help my uncle manage his building sites. It’s hard work, sometimes dirty, but very interesting. Every day is different.” Most of the people she worked with and supervised were male, some of them positively Neanderthal, but it didn’t faze her. She’d always gotten along with men. It was women she couldn’t figure out.

“And, you know, Sydney is a lot like San Francisco,” she continued. “The harbor, the ethnic food, the gay community, the weather—although I’d forgotten how cold this place can get in June.” She lifted her shoulders. “So, yes, I think I’ll be staying in Sydney for quite some time.”